


Say Aloe To My Little Friend

by SassyStarboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorable Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cute, Derek Hale Has a Nice Day, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pack House (Teen Wolf), Shopping, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski also loves tiny plants, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: “Do you think we need assistance? I’m having trouble deciding which would be a good fit for our family.”“Babe—”“It’s hard to know, Derek! Adoption is such a difficult task!”“Stiles, if you do not pick one of these cheap-ass three dollar plants in the next thirty seconds, then I will pick for you.”***Derek takes Stiles to Home Depot so they can get supplies to finish remodeling their kitchen. Stiles gets sidetracked and attempts to coerce his husband into buying an army’s worth of plants.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & The Pack
Comments: 121
Kudos: 1008
Collections: Sterek the good stuff





	1. Say Aloe to My Little Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I love plants and I love Domestic Sterek! Thought this would be cute. Be sure to lmk what you think in the comments!

“Do you think we need assistance? I’m having trouble deciding which would be a good fit for our family.” 

“Babe—”

“It’s hard to know, Derek! Adoption is such a difficult task!”

“Stiles, if you do not pick one of these cheap-ass three dollar plants in the next thirty seconds, then I will pick for you.” Derek threatens.

Stiles whines, gazing desperately at the display shelf of multicolored succulents in the front of Home Depot. They had come in to buy light switch plates. They were walking out with four paint cans. And now, Stiles was insisting their new kitchen needed one of these....things. Their newly remodeled kitchen did not now and would not ever need something being advertised as a _Cosmic Cactus_ , but Stiles clearly felt enraptured with the idea of a rainbow plant army and far be it from Derek to stop his husband from achieving his dreams.

“What if I just get one of each color?” Stiles thinks. The display _does_ have one of each color—blue, purple, orange, green, pink, yellow, red—but they’ve already been standing here for ten solid minutes and Derek is carrying all of their purchases.

“What if—” Derek jostles his arms slightly to draw attention to the cans, “—we come back for them when I’m not holding four gallons of paint?”

“But what if when we come back, they’re not here?” Stiles pouts.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “There are six pallets of these. I guarantee you they’ll be here if we come back.”

“But not these _specific_ ones.” Stiles’ tone suggests he’s named the entire top row and will be heartbroken if one of them is purchased by someone else.

Derek sighs. “You....buy all of them then.”

“What?” Stiles doesn’t understand, still unused to being rich despite his many jokes about having only married Derek to accomplish his personal dream of becoming a sugar baby. Because Derek is the kind of rich where you can say things like _buy everything_ without your wallet convulsing and bursting into flames.

“How many do you want? Eight?” Derek attempts to shrug. It’s hard to do when your arms are being weighed down, but he manages. Honestly, Stiles could buy fifty of these things and Derek wouldn’t mind in the slightest. He likes plants too. Derek’s issue is that the plants are causing them to prolong their shopping trip and therefore prolong the amount of time they spend in public, a place where Derek isn’t allowed to growl at strangers who openly drool over him and his husband.

“Eight?” Stiles chokes out, baffled.

Derek frowns. “Yes? Did you want more?”

“That’s twenty-four dollars!” Stiles squeaks, panicked. “I’m not gonna make you spend twenty-four dollars on succulents!”

“Does that amount matter when we’re about to spend $268 on paint and light switch covers?” Derek points out. “You said you wanted one of each color.”

Stiles’ face falls, and his eyes are locked onto the paint cans when he answers. “Yeah, but...but if you were redecorating the place by yourself, you wouldn’t be—”

“The kitchen isn't big enough for a pack, it was going to get remodeled no matter what.” Derek says, setting the paint on the ground and shaking out his hands. “It’s your house too, you can pick whatever paint colors you want. I would say no if you were being ridiculous or extravagant. Do you remember our _first_ trip to Home Depot?”

“That was different.” Stiles says. “We took Scott and Erica with us.”

“And I told Erica no when she begged us to get those cordless, automatic, $1,200 solar shades for every main floor window.” Derek says slowly, prompting. Stiles snorts.

“Yeah, Der. We could’ve been living on _Starship Enterprise_ if you weren’t such a cheapskate.” He teases. Derek grins.

“This is your house too, Stiles.” Derek repeats. “And I’m sure no one would object to a few plants to brighten up the place, least of all me.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then— “The paint though. You’re sure you’re okay with green? We don’t have to get green. We can...I know you like red. It can be red if you want.”

“All you.” Derek promises. “If you want our new kitchen to be green, we’ll paint it green. And if you want these plants then we’re getting these plants, so if you don’t choose the ones you want then I’ll come back without you and buy every single ugly one I can find.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Stiles bites his lip, trying not to smile. Derek throws him a challenging look, because he absolutely _would_ dare, then leans down to pick up the paint cans again.

“We have to decorate with something.” Derek says. “You’ve got the best eye for this stuff. You know if I was in charge of decorating—”

“—that our kitchen would look like a beige nightmare, yeah, I know.” Stiles teases, relaxing. “Go buy the paint. I’ll meet you at the register.”

Derek leans over to give a final look at the succulent display.

“See one you like?” Stiles asks brightly.

“That one.” Derek points at it with his elbow. Stiles beams. Then laughs.

“You want the ugly misshapen one. Of course you do.”

“It reminds me of Scott.” Derek says before walking towards the registers. He gets another laugh; a loud, surprised one. Derek grins, proud he’s managed to be funny.

“I hope you know I’m getting one for everyone now!” Stiles calls back, not caring about the opinions of the other store-goers. Derek wants to laugh, because he would’ve heard Stiles’ voice no matter what volume it was at and Stiles knows it. He just likes to be loud.

“Good!”

Derek pays for the light switch covers and the paint cans, then gets back in the line to pay for the plants once Stiles catches up with him.

Stiles has to ask an employee for a carton and—once he has the means to carry all of his new children—buys seventeen different succulents.

Including “Scott”.


	2. Don't Stop Be-leafing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided Stiles and his succulents were too cute for me to not keep going! Enjoy! Lmk what you think in the comments!! :)

_ Scott, Erica, Boyd, Stiles, Dad, Allison, Melissa, Isaac, Malia, Kira, Danny, Parrish, Derek _ , and  _ Cora _ all sit on the kitchen island beside the three remaining unnamed succulents.

Stiles surveys his children with an intense scrutiny before picking up one of the final three plants and holding it up to the light.

“This one looks like a Liam.” He tells Derek, who’s making a smoothie on their new counter. Derek looks up and squints at it from the other side of the kitchen, so Stiles offers an explanation. “It’s all tiny and red and puffy.”

“Fitting.” Derek smiles fondly at his husband. “Do you have a Malia yet?”

“Yup!” Stiles holds up the  _ Malia _ succulent, which is long and blue and spiky. All seventeen of his new miniature plants are spread out over the kitchen island while Stiles sits on a bar chair and leans down onto his elbows to get a better look. 

Across from him, Derek flips the switch on their silent blender. Stiles looks up to watch it come to life, whirring and swirling, completely decimating their final two bananas as well as a heap of peanut butter and a disgustingly large serving of spinach and kale. Stiles stares unhappily at the future smoothie _. Leaf juice. _

“What about a Lydia?” Derek asks, adding chocolate milk instead of regular milk in an attempt to get Stiles to forget about the leafy greens. It never works.

“We’ve had Lydia for a week now.  _ That’s _ Lydia.” Stiles points up at the indoor hanging pot of purple wisteria growing above their island. Sometimes they make tea with  _ Lydia _ . Derek studies it for a moment, then nods in agreement.

“She’s beautiful.”

“I know, right?” Stiles takes a moment to admire  _ Lydia _ . “I kinda want to get some actual lydia for the back yard though because they come in these cute little shrubs and they taste really bitter so they’ll keep away all those bitch ass deer that have been eating our garden.”

“ _ I _ keep away deer.” Derek says, flashing his teeth in a sharp grin. 

“ _ Everyone _ who hangs out at this house  _ should  _ keep away deer.” Stiles says, ripping off a piece of blue painters tape from the roll on the counter and neatly labeling the  _ Liam _ succulent in thick purple sharpie. “But interestingly enough, me not liking deer also encompasses a strong displeasure for the shock and horror of waking up to find multiple deer carcasses on our porch.”

“That was Malia,” Derek says quickly, “...mostly.”

“Awww, it’s okay, Der.” Stiles consoles him. “Well, unless you’re trying to tell me that the bloody deer carcass I mysteriously received the week before our engagement was from a  _ different _ alpha werewolf, in which case this entire relationship was built on lies and I want a divorce.”

“That was a dowry.” Derek frowns slightly as he says it, like he’s been offended retroactively. Then Stiles makes a scandalized expression and Derek manages to keep a straight face for all of three more seconds before losing it. His face cracks into a grin as he laughs lightly, the sound quiet but bright, and Stiles joins him.

“How dare you.” Stiles points a finger at him in mock insult. “I am worth at  _ least _ twenty deer, if not more.”

“You’re worth more than any amount of deer,” Derek says truthfully, and Stiles tries to cover his blush by ducking his head down, “but considering that happened because I caught your scent while I was running, fully shifted,  _ and  _ extraordinarily nervous about proposing, I think you’re safe.”

“I know, baby.” Stiles promises. “It was cute, I promise. I’m still a little salty you beat me to the punch, but it was cute.” Derek shoots him a disbelieving look, and Stiles caves remarkably quickly for someone so stubborn. “Okay, fine. It was gross. But at least I can honestly say I have a one-of-a-kind engagement gift, right? Honestly, I really think those antlers just tie our whole study together. They’re a real statement piece.”

Derek shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you kept those.”

“Believe it.” Stiles makes finger guns. “Seriously though. Deer carcass?  _ Never _ again.”

“If you don’t like carcass, you probably won’t like what I hunted for our dinner.” Derek says flatly.

“Oh, ewww.” Stiles wrinkles his nose in disgust. Derek snorts, pleased, then separates out a small glass of smoothie for Stiles before pouring an ungodly amount of protein powder into the rest. Stiles privately thinks the intense lack of flavor and horrible chalky taste of Derek’s protein powder is some form of self-punishment for not working out more, but he doesn’t say so.

Stiles studies the remaining plants instead, searching for defining characteristics. One of them looks different than most of the others, but he’s not sure why. So Stiles reaches out to touch it, because why not. Only it turns out to be spikier than he expected and it pricks him. Stiles gives a little whine and pulls his hand back, frowning at the bead of blood forming on the pad of his finger. Derek looks up with concern. Stiles waves him off, fine but miffed. Why? He’s bought a cactus that must’ve been put with the others by mistake and it had the audacity to attack him.

And now Stiles has the perfect name for it. Call his process what you will. Fate. Destiny.

“Jackson! This one’s Jackson!” Stiles declares before sucking on his injured finger. He makes a face, then pulls off another piece of painters tape to label the bitchy little cactus that stabbed him.  _ J-a-c-k-s-o-n _ .

Derek rinses out the blender and brings their smoothies over to the island, pulling up another chair beside Stiles. Only one plant remains. The final unnamed succulent is thick and purple, with red tinged at the tips. Derek stares at it, thinking.

“That’s the last one.” Stiles says before taking a sip of the terribly healthy smoothie. He grimaces, but drinks it anyway. It’s not a comment on Derek’s smoothie making skills at all, but a comment on Stiles’ inability to practice what he preaches when it comes to leafy vegetables. Mercifully, it’s a small glass.

“Can this one be Laura?” Derek asks quietly. Stiles turns, and smiles softly.

“Laura?” He asks gently. Derek nods, though he quickly starts to look embarrassed for suggesting it. So Stiles beams and leans over to kiss Derek on the cheek. He picks up the roll of tape again, writing out  _ Laura _ in careful letters before picking it up and placing it next to  _ Cora _ .  _ Cora _ is small and orange. Derek looks intently at the tiny little plants, then takes a long, determined sip from his smoothie. 

They stare at the plants, sitting together in silence. Then Derek hums through his smoothie straw, but waits a bit longer before he says anything. “Do I have one?”

In answer, Stiles picks up  _ Derek _ , who’s a mix of green and yellow with lots of strong, thick leaves, and places it between  _ Cora _ and  _ Laura _ . Derek nods, mostly to himself. Stiles leans into him, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and slurping his tiny smoothie as obnoxiously as possible to keep Derek from getting too sad so early in the morning.

“Look how healthy they all are.” Stiles says cheerfully. He picks up  _ Dad _ and  _ Stiles _ and  _ Scott _ and puts them next to the mini Hales.  _ Stiles _ is swollen and green with multi-directional stems, growing the same type of leaves as  _ Dad _ and  _ Erica _ .  _ Scott _ is charming and strong, but cripplingly lopsided and undeniably ugly. Stiles thinks it’s hilarious.

“Do you think anyone will notice I made a Succulent Pack?” Stiles asks. Derek thinks for a moment.

“It took them four months to notice we were dating.” Derek says, which is true and unfortunately speaks volumes about their friends’ observational skills.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Stiles says, absently stroking  _ Derek’s _ leaves. “They’re cute though, right?”

“So cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I post a part 3???


	3. What Up, Succa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved writing this part! Please let me know what you think in the comments or if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear your thoughts!! Can't believe you guys love this as much as I do!! Domestic Sterek+Pack+tiny plants?? So adorable!!

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Why does this plant say  _ Parrish _ ?”

Stiles freezes in terror.

They’ve had the house finished for a few days now and finally— _ finally _ —they’ve managed to find a day that works for almost everyone and they’re hosting their first official pack sleepover. There’d been a barbecue that afternoon, and now roughly twelve of them are sitting and drinking beer in the living room. The living room, wisely, is built for a large group of people and has two full couches along with some oversized beanbags set up around the coffee table. Shelves line the walls; most filled with books with a stray plant here and there, some holding covertly placed magical artifacts posing as bookends.

Scott had been the one to speak, and until now Stiles hadn’t considered the possibility that his friends might find “their” plants. He didn’t particularly care, because all of them already know how weird he is and most of them are just as bad, but now he’s suddenly worried they’ll laugh at him and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Um...it’s a type of succulent?” Stiles tries and fails to sound casual, intentionally phrasing it as a question because he’d figured out pretty early on that if the lie isn’t an outright statement, his heart is less dramatic about it. Unfortunately, this tactic only works if it’s well executed and Stiles is inwardly panicking. Derek looks over at him with an odd expression, an eyebrow raised. Stiles gives his husband a pointed look and subtly makes a cutting motion across his throat.  _ Stop them. Help me. _ Derek calmly turns away from Stiles to address the room.

“They’re particularly viable in Iraq.” Derek offers, because he knows none of the others know enough about succulents to argue with him.  _ Parrish _ is a bright yellowish red with long flat leaves, and doesn’t look particularly green enough to be found in the desert but Scott seems to accept the explanation.

That is, until Isaac reaches over to the bookshelf behind him and turns around the nearest succulent. “This one says  _ Kira _ !”

“What?” Kira gets up from her beanbag and moves over to the succulent, picking it up from the shelf and smiling at it.  _ Kira _ is a sunny, peachy yellow with tiny swollen leaves. “Awww, Stiles! It’s so teeny.”

“They’re mine. You can’t have them.” Stiles says impulsively. Derek grins and gently scritches the back of Stiles’ head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as a mild attempt to reign him in.

“Wait.” Erica frowns, glancing around the living room where at least eight other succulents are in plain sight. “Wait, you have like thirty of these.”

“Seventeen.” Stiles says stiffly.

“Did you...are there…” Erica looks around again, then grins broadly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles says quickly, a fatal mistake.  _ Lie _ . The others catch on far too fast for his liking.

Erica is first, and she shrieks with glee and gets up from her seat, immediately darting forward to search the shelves. Scott, Allison, Kira, Isaac, Boyd, Liam, and Malia follow. Stiles buries his face in Derek’s chest, because despite loving his friends and knowing this was inevitable, it’s suddenly turned into the world's most embarrassing Easter egg hunt. Jackson and Lydia remain on the couch, interested but smart enough to know they don’t need to get up with so many of the others doing the searching for them.

“I found  _ Boyd! _ ” Erica calls from the kitchen.

“Scott, this one says  _ Melissa! _ ”

“Awww, Liam, yours looks so angry!”

“Mine looks mean.” Malia says happily, grinning and clutching  _ Malia _ to her chest.

“Did you label one for everyone?” Lydia asks, the question giving her a cute little crease between her brows.

Stiles glances nervously at Jackson. “Um—”

“Dude, Jackson’s a cactus!” Isaac cackles. Scott and Malia burst out laughing. Allison covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to giggle.

“What?” Jackson gets up immediately, crossing the room and snatching  _ Jackson _ out of Isaac’s hands.

“Don’t hurt him!” Stiles pleads quickly, distressed. Derek squeezes Stiles’ knee, because they’re only plants but Derek would be disproportionately upset if something happened to  _ Cora _ or  _ Laura _ so he doesn’t point that out. Jackson rolls his eyes, but gruffly hands  _ Jackson _ over to Lydia, who studies it closely.

“Can’t believe you made me a fucking cactus.” He grumbles.

“Your fault for being so prickly.” Stiles says. Liam snickers.

“Why is part of it red?” Lydia wonders. “This doesn’t look like the regular pattern for this type of cactus.”

“Oh yeah.” Stiles cranes his neck to double check. “That’s blood. Cackson stabbed me.”

“Cackson?” Jackson looks angry. Stiles doesn’t understand why, because  _ Cackson _ is fucking hilarious.

“Yeah, you know.” Stiles makes a meshing gesture with his fingers. “Jackson. Cactus. Jackson the Cactus. Cackson.”

Another round of laughter bursts through the room. Stiles revels in it.  _ Cackson _ is masterful wordplay and anyone who says otherwise is a lying little bitch. But Jackson’s death glare is a little much—as in, so needlessly dramatic it’s hard to look at without laughing— so Stiles turns away to watch Kira admire  _ Kira _ and  _ Melissa _ .

“For love of god, Stilinski, do not call this thing  _ Cackson _ or I will shove it up your ass.” Jackson demands. Derek lets out a low growl in warning. Stiles looks back up with a snort as Jackson huffs and retreats to muttering under his breath.  _ Cackson _ . 

“Sorry Whittemore,” Stiles pretends to pout as he runs a hand down Derek’s arm, “there’s only one thing I like to shove up my ass and that’s Derek’s—”

“Oh my god, I look like a mutant!” Scott exclaims suddenly, distraught. The others flock to Scott to look at his monstrosity of a succulent and dissolve into laughter.

“Ha! Yours looks weird.” Malia snorts.

“Hard to believe that’s news to you, buddy.” Stiles says. Lydia leans forward to examine  _ Scott _ . Jackson scoffs, which Stiles thinks is the rich people version of laughter.

“It looks just like you, McCall.” He smirks, thrilled. “You must be so proud.” Derek looks like he wants to laugh, but stops himself.

“Dude! It’s...what even...am I  _ dying? _ ” Scott moans at Stiles, who shrugs defensively.

“I overwatered you!” Stiles defends. “Out of love! That one’s  _ Scott _ because it’s got those little stretchy parts! It looks like it wants to be friends and hold hands with all the other ones!”

“It looks like it’s having an allergic reaction.” Isaac squints at it from the other side of the couch. He’s not wrong. The others snicker. Scott frowns.

“ _ I _ think it’s got charm.” Allison suggests. Stiles nods encouragingly.

“Oh. Really?” Scott says, still frowning. “Oh. I mean...I guess he’s kinda cute.”

“I like him!” Kira offers. “He’s endearing!”

“ _ Feel the love.” _ Stiles whispers desperately. Scott snorts, shaking his head as he sits down with  _ Scott _ .

“Do I have one?” Lydia asks him in a tone that suggests she’d better have a plant named after her or Stiles is in trouble. “Everyone else has found theirs.”

Stiles scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh. Uh, you’re not a succulent? I got you way before I got everyone else. You’ve been in the kitchen, right?” Lydia nods. “You’re the indoor wisteria plant over the island. We—”  _ we eat you  _ “—we make tea with  _ Lydia _ sometimes. You’re the only useful plant in the house.”

Lydia hums in approval. “Accurate.”

Stiles nods eagerly, relieved.

“Plant Stiles looks like Plant Sheriff!” Malia calls back from the kitchen. A few of the others come in to look.

“Awww, and Plant Erica!” Erica coos. Boyd sits at the island with succulent  _ Boyd _ , a button string, carefully stroking the leaves.

“Is anyone else still not over Cackson?” Liam snorts.

“Shut up, Dunbar. Yours looks like it’s about to explode.”

“At least I’m prettier than Scott.”

“Mine’s pretty on the inside.” Scott says pleasantly. Allison kisses his cheek, being mindful of  _ Allison _ as she does so.  _ Allison _ is a gentle purple with round but pointed leaves.

“I think the Derek one should be stabbier.” Isaac says, sitting down on the floor and placing  _ Isaac _ on the coffee table beside  _ Melissa _ .  _ Isaac  _ is a small aloe with spines.

“I don’t. Der-Bear’s a big fluffy marshmallow on the inside.” Stiles kisses the tip of Derek’s nose. It crinkles as Derek tries not to smile, forcing himself to look serious in the face of Stiles’ teasing.

“This marshmallow can kill you about thirteen different ways.” Derek trails a finger along the underside of Stiles’ jaw for emphasis. Stiles does not react as he should to a predator threatening his life.

“Mmm. Got me a man who can do both.” Stiles winks, leaning in to kiss his husband.

Jackson, still upset, makes a noise of disgust. 

“No one asked you, Cackson!” Stiles glares sharply at Jackson before returning to his previous activity of making out with Derek.

_ “I’m gonna—I’m gonna kill him, Lydia. He’s dead.” _

_ “Okay, Jax.” _

_ “I’m serious!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys want to see my reference sheet? Aka the actual pictures of what all the succulents look like? Including Scott? If you guys seem interested, I might post it as the next chapter and maybe you guys can guess who's who before I add the key. Let me know!


	4. You Grow, Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Hi!!!!!!! The succulents have been identified!!! Check them out!!
> 
> Closest guesser: dont_break_my_little_fangirl_heart ! The extra plant (aka why there were 18 not 17) was Lydia, who isn't a succulent and was purchased separately. All of your guesses were correct except 3/14, which should have been switched. I actually went a little back and forth on those two but #3 (Stiles) seems weirder/crazier to me and 14 (Sheriff) is really green and I thought Stiles would want his dad's plant to be super healthy. But you did so good!! Good job!! Thanks so much for guessing!
> 
> First to guess: Dee97 ! 15 was Danny but I didn't describe his plant so that's totally on me, lol. Also, hint, Peter is not a succulent, he is something else entirely and you will soon find out. But I'm so glad you guessed! You always leave such sweet, thoughtful comments on my stories and it warms my heart. You're so cool! Good job!!
> 
> The bonus???........Succulent Lydia!!! I couldn't decide between these final two so I'm posting them both. Yay!!

****

**#1: ERICA**

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**#2: PARRISH**

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**#3: STILES**

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**#4: SCOTT**

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**#5: LYDIA**

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**#6: CORA**

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**#7: KIRA**

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**#8: MALIA**

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**#9: BOYD**

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**#10: DEREK**

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**#11: ALLISON**

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**#12: JACKSON/CACKSON**

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**#13: MELISSA**

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**#14: DAD (SHERIFF/JOHN)**

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**#15: DANNY**

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**#16: ISAAC**

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**#17: LAURA**

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**#18: LIAM**

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**BONUS: Succulent!Lydia (option #1, because I'm indecisive)**

****

**BONUS: Succulent!Lydia Option #2 :)**

**FULL COLLAGE :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da!! Thank you so much to everyone who tried their hand at guessing, you guys are all so cute! I can't believe how many people have commented on this story, it's just insane. You guys are so sweet!!
> 
> Part 4 will be posted on Monday.  
> EDIT: (American) Labor Day weekend confused me. I meant Tuesday, lol  
> Enjoy!!! Lmk what you think!!! :)


	5. I’ve met some pricks in my life, but you sir are a fucking cactus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Finishing this took more time than I expected but it's so long it practically doubles the word count for the whole work so I don't feel too bad about it. I've also never written Peter before, so please let me know how he turned out/what you thought of his interactions with the pack!! Enjoy!!!

“Isaac contributed so much to the pack. He was more important than we can ever hope to fully understand. He was beautiful and strong, lively and colorful. He brightened up every room he was in. Isaac will be missed greatly, by us and by those who could not make it to this service. Would anyone like to say a few words?”

“Yeah. I would.” Isaac raises his hand. “This is really weird for me.”

“Shut up and pay your respects.” Stiles orders.

Erica, Isaac, Lydia, Scott, Jackson, Derek, and Stiles are gathered in a crowded cluster around a six inch hole in the ground, each of them draped in whatever black clothing they’d managed to find in the coat closet for their emergency funeral. They’re in Stiles and Derek’s backyard, though _backyard_ doesn’t do their enormous plot of gorgeous, open land nearly enough justice. Erica is wearing a black knit blanket as a shawl and conducting the service with an unexpected air of professionalism.

“If anyone wishes to speak of the deceased, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“That’s for weddings, dumbass.” Jackson informs her before turning to Lydia with weary eyes. “Lydia, _please_. We have to leave. We’re going to be late.”

“No.” Lydia says primly. Jackson’s face says he wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t dare do so in the presence of Lydia. In the last few minutes, he’s proclaimed multiple times that the funeral they’re holding for Isaac’s succulent is a stupid waste of time because it’s a _fucking_ _plant_. Jackson’s neck, on the other hand, is artfully wrapped in a long black mourning scarf.

“You can’t.” Erica informs him. “You have to stay for the murder trial.” Scott and Isaac turn to Stiles for confirmation but Stiles shakes his head.

“I said I was sorry!” Jackson insists, irritated. It’s cold outside, because November in California is still November, and Lydia and their families have a joint dinner reservation in thirty minutes. Jackson finally maturing enough to come to grips with his sexuality hadn’t made their duo any less dynamic. Why shouldn’t their families still enjoy each other's company?

“No you didn’t.” Scott fires at him. “You said _oh shit_ and then did nothing.”

“It’s not my fault Lydia’s **—** ” Jackson changes course when Lydia glares at him, “—awesome dog got out and ate Isaac’s plant.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Lydia whirls on him, her curls falling over the shoulders of Jackson’s borrowed black overcoat as she turns her head. “ _You_ were the one who was supposed to be watching Chanel while I was in the kitchen, _Jackson_.”

Derek leans down slightly to whisper his question to Stiles, whose hands are hidden completely in the adorably oversized sleeves of one of Derek’s black sweaters. “Chanel?”

“Prada was eaten in September.” Stiles mutters to Derek under his breath, completely serious. Isaac makes a halting noise in the back of his throat that’s either snot clearing or a badly suppressed laugh— _eaten by what??_ —before quickly schooling his expression and turning his attention back to Erica and the plant grave. Beside them, Scott acknowledges Prada’s untimely death by nodding solemnly out of respect. 

“Oh.” Derek says. He doesn’t know how else to respond. Out of the corner of his eyes, he glances at the small dog Lydia is clutching tightly in her arms. Looks like the same dog to him.

“If everyone has finished disrespecting the deceased—” Erica eyes Jackson with a pointed glare and Jackson rolls his eyes, scowling, “—then I would like to proceed with the ceremony. Stiles, if you will.”

Stiles kneels down next to the hole and pulls the dental floss out of his pocket. He pulls off two sections and lays them under the cut off end of a kleenex box (one of those fancy biodegradable ones), which forms a smaller box made to fit the size of _Isaac_ ’s “corpse”. Stiles places _Isaac_ ’s remains—three leaves, a raggedy root, and a sizable handful of dirt—across the cardboard and the dental floss, preparing to lower the makeshift open casket into the hole Scott dug into one of their empty garden plots. Chanel lets out a bark from Lydia’s arms, possibly asking for a second course. Lydia calms her down. Isaac eyes Jackson and Chanel with well-deserved contempt.

 _“No one else thinks this is fucking stupid?”_ Jackson whispers to Lydia with a hiss. Erica sneers at him. Scott pouts, because Isaac had been upset about the destruction of his plant and the mini funeral had been Scott and Stiles’ idea. The plant needed to be buried in the garden anyway, so it could regrow. Why _not_ have a funeral?

“Be quiet or your cactus is next.” Lydia threatens. Jackson closes his mouth, because his plant has a stupid name but yeah. He would be annoyed if it died. He wouldn’t be able to make fun of it in front of Stiles anymore. Not to mention he would be _pissed_ if someone fucked with Danny’s plant. 

“I request a moment of silence to remember the deceased as we lay him to rest.” Erica announces.

The hole is six inches wide and less than six inches deep, and the others watch in silence as Stiles lowers _Isaac_ into the ground at an agonizingly slow pace. It takes twenty-four seconds to lower the “casket”. Again, the hole is six inches deep. Stiles makes it last out of respect—a feeling completely unrelated to the quiet groans Jackson thinks the others can’t hear. And if Stiles—the _human—_ can hear them? They’re not quiet.

“What is god's name are you doing?”

Stiles lays _Isaac_ to rest and looks up from the ground. 

Peter has joined them in the garden, despite the fact that no one has invited him. His appearance is impressive actually, considering they all thought Peter was on vacation with Chris _in_ _France_. Yet here he is, wearing a stylish woolen pea coat and an expression of heavy derision. He _looks_ bored. Stiles knows better.

“Plant funeral.” Stiles says matter-of-factly, pushing the small pile of dirt back over the hole and sealing the grave. He stands up, brushing the dirt off his hands by wiping them on his knees. Peter wrinkles his nose, offended by Stiles’ blatant disregard for his clothing. Scott watches Peter with narrowed eyes—the one person he’ll always be suspicious of. Derek, far too used to Peter’s disappearing/reappearing act, focuses instead on watching Stiles...in case he needs to hold him back. 

Peter stares down at the hole they’ve dug with an odd look on his face, as if perhaps he’s gained x-ray vision during his holiday. Lydia reaches down and squeezes Jackson’s hand, unafraid but noticeably uncomfortable.

“A funeral.” Peter says shortly. “For two leaves.”

“Three.” Erica glares at him.

“Three. Of course.” Peter says dryly. “And let’s not forget the teaspoon of dirt. What a fine specimen.”

“What do you want?” Derek asks.

“Quality family time.” Peter frowns. “Imagine my surprise when I arrive home and no one is there to greet me—”

“You don’t live here.” Derek tells him. It’s true, though no matter how many times they change the lock Peter still manages to waltz right in. 

“—yet what I’ve done to deserve such treatment is an utter mystery to me.” Peter continues on as if no one had spoken. “I don’t understand you, Derek. Is it too much to want to spend time getting to know my nephew?”

“Evidently it is,” Derek says, “seeing as you’ve never made time for me before.” 

Peter’s responding expression can only be described as mocking, petulant exasperation. It doesn’t look right on his face.

Somehow, Peter manages to exude power and authority despite possessing neither over any of the pack members—least of all Derek. The thing is though, he’s kind of okay when he’s not being a total asshole and he’s the only one smart enough to play chess with Stiles—Lydia prefers _go_ , which is much more difficult to master but Stiles can hardly bear to look at it and refuses to play. No one blames him. Peter though. He’s...tolerable. Usually. He even seems almost normal when he drops by to go hunting with Malia, not to mention he’s dating Allison’s dad, which….gross.

Amazingly, Chris has been good for Peter. Stiles knows that. They all do. That doesn’t mean Peter wouldn’t still turn on them at the drop of a hat. Aforementioned lack of authority aside, Stiles thinks learning to tolerate Peter has the awkwardness of inviting your boss to a staff Christmas party, except your boss recently committed capital homicide and everyone else is skating around it because they don’t want to get fired—or worse, they’re afraid of being next.

“Do you mind?” Stiles says finally. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“Right.” Peter drawls. “Of course. The incredibly serious funeral service for your easily replaceable houseplant. I feel absolutely despicable for disturbing you in your grief.”

“What bit you on the ass?” Jackson snarks. All of them were thinking it, everyone else had had strong enough self preservation instincts not to say it. Isaac in particular, who despises Peter but often can’t bring himself to talk back to him.

“Well, perhaps the fact that you didn’t throw a funeral for _me_ when I died _.”_ Peter says. He sounds upset, though Stiles can’t possibly imagine why.

“You die a lot.” Stiles says, which is true. 

“ _Twice_ is not a lot.” Peter corrects.

“Most people only die once.” Derek reminds him.

“I’m special.” Peter says loftily.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Sure, but when you die—”

“If.”

“ _When_ you die,” Scott continues pointedly, “it will be for a grand total of three times. That’s two times too many.”

“Most people aren’t nearly as intelligent as I am.” Peter’s tone suggests this is common knowledge, though he glances fleetingly at Stiles and Lydia as he responds. “ _Most_ people.”

Peter gives a final look of disdain to the miniature grave before giving a short hum and strolling back up towards the house. He’d only come out to the garden to create a spectacle and now that he’s accomplished his goal he has no further use for them. Peter leaves, perhaps planning to take advantage of them all being outside and take a sweep through the living room to reclaim the high-end glass coffee table he’s been eyeing—Derek hadn’t cared much for home-goods while living in the loft and, as a result, _Peter_ had been the one to purchase the majority of its high quality furniture. Furniture that now resided in Stiles and Derek’s living room. Of course, Peter’s perceived need for it didn’t mean he had a place to put it or even truly wanted it. But it did mean he felt he had claim to their furniture pieces and that several of their nicer chairs had mysteriously _gone missing_.

“We should make sure he doesn’t steal anything.” Scott says suddenly.

The others shrug, but wait and let Isaac bend down to push over the rest of the dirt of _Isaac’s_ grave before they all head up towards the house. Jackson moves his hand to Lydia’s lower back and walks them quickly out of the garden. They have dinner reservations, for crying out loud. Scott rolls his eyes and falls back to talk to Isaac. They’re halfway through the yard when Derek finally turns to Stiles, because he _has_ to ask.

“Does Peter have a plant?”

Stiles continues looking forward, evasive. “I don’t know if I like the tone you asked me in.”

“I asked you in that tone because you’re notoriously petty and I wouldn’t be surprised if his was dead.” Derek says pointedly.

“No, he...he has one.” Stiles purses his lips, like he’s made a joke to himself and he’s trying not to laugh. “He’s the ficus by the front door.”

Derek frowns, confused. “Stiles, that...that plant’s fake.”

“And therefore, no matter what I do to it, it refuses to die.” Stiles says cheerfully.

“That plant is fake?” Jackson exclaims in front of them. Derek’s brows furrow in confusion until he sees Stiles wince sharply, like he’s walked into an argument or ruined an ingenious joke.

“ _Shit_ . Um, well it...it’s not _not_ fake.” Stiles is biting his lip, very obviously trying not to laugh. Derek puts the pieces together a split second before Jackson pulls to a stop in front of them.

“Why the hell have you been making me water it?” Jackson demanded. Isaac snorts into his scarf, but immediately stops when Jackson sneers at him.

“Spite.” Stiles says simply. Scott snickers.

“Oh, sweetie, if you can’t tell the difference then whose fault is it really?” Erica simpers, patting him on the shoulder before striding past him into the house. Lydia looks like she wants to laugh but manages to restrain herself. Stiles does no such thing. Jackson scowls.

“God, you’re such a little shit, Stilinski.” He huffs.

“That’s _Stilinski-Hale_ to you,” Stiles says cheerfully, “and in case you feel like calling me a little shit again, I’d like to remind you of my husband— _your_ Alpha—who is ready and willing to _literally_ eat you if you continue insulting me. Isn’t that right, schnookums?”

Derek shoots Jackson a predatory grin, his fangs elongating ever-so-slightly as he bares his teeth. In response, Jackson manfully reclaims Lydia’s arm and marches her into the house, moving quickly through the kitchen and towards the front door. Well, Stiles assumes that’s where they’re going. His puny human eyes aren’t much good in the evening light without his glasses. Lydia, of course, isn’t one to be man-handled but chooses to let Jackson lead her towards the driveway because she doesn’t want him to bitch all the way through their dinner. Stiles watches them head out, feeling victorious.

“Baby, that was so sexy.” Stiles leans up and kisses Derek on the cheek. “You’re so hot when you’re defending my honor. I love it.”

“Oh?” Derek raises an eyebrow, grinning. “That sexy, huh?”

Stiles runs his eyes over Derek, slow and deliberate. “ _Oh_ yeah.”

“Please don’t start making out.” Isaac begs, cringing. “I feel like I’m watching my parents.”

“Yeah, dude, no.” Scott manages.

“Uh, _dude_ , you and Allison have done way worse out here and it’s not even your house, so shut up.” Stiles scoffs. “Do the words _4th of July_ _barbecue_ mean anything to you?”

Scott’s eyes go wide. “Uh, no. No, definitely not.”

“Then mind your own business and hurry along,” Stiles waves him off, “because lemme tell you, Scotty. This back porch is about to get—”

“Nope!”

Scott and Isaac make a hard right, bypassing the back door and heading straight out to the driveway for a swift exit—they’ve been through this before and werewolf ears are more of a curse than a blessing at this point. They speed walk towards their cars in a panic, leaving Derek and Stiles standing alone on their patio.

Stiles frowns. “He knows I meant our _literal_ back porch, right?” He stomps his foot on the porch for emphasis.

Derek looks confused. Stiles pats his cheek. Derek frowns. “What else could you possibly have...oh. Ah, that would...right. Well...right.”

“Awwww.” Stiles reaches up and tugs lightly on Derek’s ears, which have gone red in his flustered state. “You’re like a little baby tomato.” Stiles cups Derek’s face in his hands. “ _My tomato._ ”

Derek blushes furiously and pushes Stiles’ hands away from his face. “No. Moment over.”

“What? No!” Stiles protests, laughing as he does it. “Moment not over, moment very much not over! Baby, I’m sorry! Awww, come on. Don’t do me like this.”

But Derek holds up his hand when Stiles tries to start his next sentence. Stiles stops, because Derek has his listening face on and Stiles is more than a little worried he’s hearing Peter steal their furniture. Derek turns to face the house, looking vaguely in the direction of the driveway. Stiles pauses his begging, frowning as he watches Derek’s brows furrow in concentration.

“What?” Stiles asks. But Derek grins, turning back to Stiles. “ _What?_ ”

“The last car just left.” Derek says, smirking. Stiles huffs. _Asshole._

“What, so you’re suddenly Mr.Smooth now that—mmph!”

Derek tugs Stiles in, kissing him deeply and effectively cutting him off mid-taunt. Stiles quickly relaxes into the kiss, his hands pressing into Derek’s chest as he grips his shirt, responding with eagerness and enthusiasm. But it’s over as quickly as it started and Derek pulls back with a grin, smug as he watches Stiles struggle to catch his breath. Stiles pouts at him.

“Don’t give me...that look....asshole.” Stiles warns, breathless.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Derek says, teasingly kissing the corner of his mouth before turning and striding into the house.

“Hey, you can’t—you don’t get to be all hot and mysterious after you blushed at my accidental innuendo!” Stiles manages, scrambling after him. "That defies logic!"

“I blushed because when you called me a baby tomato, Peter was still in earshot!” Derek calls back, already halfway through the house. Stiles halts mid-step, cringing with displeasure.

“Oh, ewww.”

Derek calls something back to him that Stiles is too far to hear but he _knows_ it’s snarky. But Stiles grins anyway, shaking his head as he makes his way up the stairs. Stiles tracks Derek down to the master bedroom before closing the door, carefully locking it behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people wanted Peter, so here you go!! I was actually already planning to add him because once I thought of the funeral I knew I had to have Peter being salty about it. BUT a couple people asked for Melissa and the Sheriff so guess who's up next?? Right now their role is a little smaller, mostly bc I haven't really written for them before either, but it's in the early stages so that could definitely change. Lmk in the comments if you have any ideas or if you just want to share your thoughts!!!
> 
> p.s.  
> I'm sorry about Prada. It was for the greater good. She died honorably, I promise.


	6. I Love You Berry Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, I’ve had way too many exams lately. This one is really cute and lovey though AND it came out longer than I thought it would so, bonus? Hope this turned out okay! (please excuse the gross overuse of ellipses)
> 
> Lmk what you think in the comments!! :)

“Who’s my favorite Derek? It’s you. Yes it is, it’s you. I love you. Oh, you’re so gorgeous, look at you being all pretty.”

“I thought _I_ was your favorite Derek.”

Stiles jolts, taken by surprise. A second later, Derek’s shadow stretches across the tomato plot, looking a bit distorted where it catches on the leaves. Stiles looks away from his vine of cherry tomatoes to squint up at his husband, the brim of Stiles’ gardening hat just wide enough to shield his eyes from the sun. Derek checks the ground for stray plants before sitting beside Stiles in the middle of their garden. It’s hot outside, hotter than the forecast predicted it would be but neither of them mind. Stiles moves over a bit to let him come closer, and Derek sees that the back of Stiles’ neck is red **—** either from the sun or from embarrassment; Derek isn’t sure. Hat or no hat, Stiles always comes back from the garden with skin redder than their strawberries. Derek thinks it’s cute. Stiles hates it with a passion.

“I, uh, I thought you were at the gym.” Stiles’ hands are fidgeting and tugging at the fingers of his gloves. His heart rate has gotten a bit fast as well. Derek doesn’t think much of it; he knows it picks up every time he comes home, and _especially_ so when he goes straight to Stiles after finishing a workout.

“I was.” Derek confirms, though it’s obvious from his workout tank and the bright sheen of sweat covering his skin. “Now I’m back. Since when am I not your favorite Derek?”

“Seems like someone’s forgetting the Frankenstein smoothie they forced on me at breakfast.” Stiles sniffs, turning his back on Derek to return to his previous activity of stroking their strongest tomato plant. “Maybe I’d be persuaded to change my rankings if you stopped force-feeding me dead leaves.”

Derek’s brows furrow and he reaches out, adjusting the brim of Stiles’ hat to get a better look at him. “You love vegetables.”

“I love _fun_ vegetables.” Stiles corrects him.

“Define _fun vegetable_.”

“Cucumber.” Stiles forgoes lamenting the agony of juiced kale in favor of giving Derek an over exaggerated wink. “Zucchini. Eggplant.”

“We don’t grow eggplants. Why would we grow something you don’t like?” Derek says, missing the point.

“I barely eat half of this stuff.” Stiles glances around their garden. “Anything that looks like a leaf is something I grew for you.”

“You like chard, don’t you?”

Stiles sours immediately, wrinkling his nose. “Chard deserves to rot in hell.”

“Did you try to eat the roots?” Derek has a sneaking suspicion that Stiles just doesn’t know how to cook beet vegetables. The rainbow chard growing in the plot behind them is bitter, but not _that_ bitter.

Stiles hesitates before he responds, suddenly unsure. “Are the roots...not edible?”

“If by _edible_ you mean _won’t kill you if you eat it_ , then yes.” Derek answers. “But if your definition of edible means it tastes good and won’t make you sick, then no.”

“....ah.” Stiles bites his lip, looking away in an effort to hide his cringe. Derek has to make a serious attempt not to laugh. Stiles had been the one to buy the chard, after all. _They’re rainbow, babe! Don’t you want to taste the rainbow?_

“I married a genius.” Derek teases.

“Genius is a relative term that doesn’t encompass forbidden leaf knowledge.” Stiles points at him, on the defensive.

“Root knowledge.” Derek corrects him by poking his cheek. Stiles plays into it and bares his teeth in a mini snarl, turning his head to bite at Derek’s finger. Derek laughs and snatches his hand back, barely escaping with his life.

“Support my cannibal tendencies.” Stiles pleads flatly, gazing longingly at Derek’s fingers. Derek snorts.

“Did you name this plant after me?” He asks instead, reaching out towards the tomato plant and feeling one of the larger leaves. It’s big and strong and doesn’t have any holes yet, which is a good sign Stiles has finally fixed their caterpillar problem. _Fixed_ meaning he’d given up on convincing Derek to “hunt” the fuzzy little bastards and actually gone out on his own to buy eco-friendly pesticides.

Stiles hesitates, his eyes darting to the tomato plant as Derek asks. “Yes. This plant and this plant only.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. Stiles sighs in defeat and gestures vaguely to the rest of the garden. They have ten plots—rainbow chard, kale, spinach, eggplant, pumpkins, potatoes, cherry tomatoes, strawberries, blackberries, and watermelon. Not everything is in season, but most of the vegetables are growing steadily and get harvested weekly for their smoothies and salads. Derek scans the garden, unsure of what he should be looking for.

Derek frowns, thinking. “So there are….”

“Nine? Maybe?” Stiles admits timidly, and even then Derek’s ears catch it only because they’re so close together. Derek leans towards him a bit more.

“Nine?” He questions.

“Nine Dereks.” Stiles pauses, thinking. “Ten if you count Succulent Derek.”

“After me? You named all your plants after me? Even the watermelon?” Derek wants to laugh. He manages to stop himself, but it’s a near thing and it shows on his face.

“Especially the watermelon.” Stiles says. Derek thinks maybe he should be offended but can’t find the words to comment. Stiles hums, smug.

Derek takes another look around the garden, the afternoon light casting a warm glow over their backyard. But when he turns back Stiles seems to have lost some of his humor. Stiles smells like he might be starting to feel upset now and Derek thinks back, wondering if he missed something. Derek’s grin fades and he reaches over, squeezing Stiles’ hand. He doesn’t know _why_ Stiles feels anxious all of the sudden, because Derek thinks it’s funny and sweet that Stiles named all of his plant babies after him but he waits. Speaking from experience, Stiles will tell him what’s wrong if he wants too. If it’s truly important.

“I just wanted them to grow better.” Stiles says softly. They’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes when he finally speaks. He doesn’t sound too worried, Derek thinks. He sounds a little sad, if anything, but not truly upset. Nostalgic, maybe. 

“They’re growing beautifully.” Derek reaches out and rubs Stiles’ back, fingers stretching up to massage his neck. Stiles purses his lips and stares determinedly at _Derek Number Seven_ —a strong crop of thick, healthy pumpkins in the next plot over. Derek stays quiet, patient. Stiles sighs.

“You know how plants are supposed to grow super green and be way more healthy if you talk to them?” Stiles asks, tentative. Derek nods. “Yeah, I, uh, I knew that but I felt kinda weird talking to them? I know, I talk all the time and I talk to _myself_ all the time but the plant thing felt like, super awkward for some reason? I’ve...I’ve always wanted to have a house with a really nice garden. The one at my Dad’s pretty much wasted away after...well, after there wasn’t anyone around to care for it anymore. I remember being little and helping my mom with _her_ garden and I’ve always thought it would be nice to be able to do that with our...when we…”

“When we have kids?” Derek finishes for him. Stiles bites his lip, cautious as he lifts his head a bit to gauge Derek’s response. They’ve talked about it, but Stiles has been getting more emotional about it lately and he’s a bit unsure if he and Derek are still on the same page. But Derek gives him a soft, easy smile in return. He squeezes his hand encouragingly and Stiles nods, his scent starting to turn sweet again. Derek breathes it in, relishing the feeling of Stiles taking comfort in him.

“Yeah.” Stiles says, gaining confidence. “Yeah, I-I just...I thought maybe if I named them after you, then it would be like I was talking to _you_ instead of out into empty space. Cause, you know, I love you and I like telling you that you’re super cute and that I love you. I figured if I had a garden full of Dereks, I would feel less awkward about taking care of them. I think it worked too, because all ten Dereks are _flourishing_.” 

Stiles is right, their plants do look healthy. Derek and Stiles have a whole garden full of fruits and vegetables and they’ve never looked better. The plants that are in season are bright and colorful, and even the plants that aren't are still growing strong. Stiles wanted their plants to be healthy and happy so he named all of them after his husband. So he could make them feel loved. Derek doesn’t know what to say. It’s sweet and adorable and he doesn’t think anyone’s ever done anything like that for him before. Something that made him feel so loved and cared for. 

Derek looks around at their garden, overwhelmed. 

“Oh, wow, you totally think it’s super creepy, don’t you?” Stiles tenses up, his eyes going wide as though he’s hearing what he’s done for the first time. “It is, isn’t it. Man, uh, what if I just name them all Steve instead, yeah? Is that better? Is Steve—"

Derek surges forward, kissing Stiles deeply as his hands come up to hold Stiles’ face in his hands. He doesn’t care that both of them are sitting on a mound of dirt and weeds, or that both of them are absolutely disgusting with sweat right now. Derek _needs_ this, and he loves that the instant their lips met, Stiles was kissing him back. He needs Stiles to know how much he loves him and how much he cares and even if Derek isn’t the best with words, _this_ he can do. Derek kisses him soundly, pouring everything he feels for Stiles into this one moment of intimacy in the middle of their vegetable patch. He’s being dramatic, maybe, but he doesn’t care. Why should he?

Stiles is breathless when they separate. He’s beaming, his flushed face dazed with happiness. Derek smiles at him, and it’s that sweet, gentle smile that only Stiles ever gets to see.

“Oh.” Stiles manages, smiling softly. “You...awww, really?”

“Really.” Derek promises, tilting Stiles’ hat off to the side and kissing his temple. Stiles readjusts his hat when Derek moves back, shooting him a glare that has absolutely no heat behind it as he does so. Derek rolls his eyes fondly.

“Admit it.” Stiles forcefully pulls up the hat’s tie, drawing it all the way up to his chin. “I look sexy in this hat.”

“I think _you_ look sexy.” Derek says carefully, because Derek’s love for his husband does not extend to his husband’s love of hideous drawstring bucket hats.

“...would you be willing to come out and garden with me if I got you a hat?” Stiles flutters his eyelashes, falling back against Derek’s chest as he looks for the best angle to maximize the power of his doe eyes. The brim of his hat hits Derek in the face and Derek very nearly shoves him off.

“Absolutely not.”

“You’d look so dashing!” Stiles begs. “Think of the ladies! Think of the Stileses!” Stiles’ eyes are glittering and Derek just _knows_ the next time Stiles goes out, he’ll come back with one of those ridiculous hats for him. 

“Think of the _Dereks_.” Derek says pointedly. “You don’t want me out here, Stiles. I have a black thumb.”

Stiles droops into a pout. “But no...so no hats?”

“No hats.”

“But—”

“No hats.”

“ _No capes._ ” Stiles mocks. He sticks his tongue out at Derek but the position they’re in—Derek with his arms around Stiles’ neck, Stiles leaning back just enough for Derek to see past his hat—doesn’t make it easy on him. Not to mention werewolves run hot and Stiles’ awkward attempts to cuddle in the heat are turning Derek’s arms into a sweat lodge.

“Nine.” Derek says suddenly. Mercifully, Stiles gives up and wriggles his way back into a sitting position so he can look Derek in the eyes.

“Nine what?” He frowns.

“You said the garden has nine Dereks.”

“Yeah, and?”

“We have ten plants.” Derek says. “Which one is different?”

“The kale.” 

“Do I want to know why?” Derek is almost afraid to ask.

“Deu- _kale_ -ion.” Stiles beams. He looks immensely proud of himself, and wrongfully so. Derek’s expression doesn’t change, staying constant in a cross between suspicion and disapproval. Stiles’ grin broadens. “See, like—”

“No, I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Trust me. I get it.”

“Considering you aren’t currently dying of laughter, I beg to differ.” Stiles huffs in retaliation and despondently collapses back into Derek, forcing the two of them to fall down into the grass. Derek grunts as Stiles lands on him, and carefully rolls Stiles a bit to the side so his elbows aren’t crushing Derek’s windpipe.

“Hello.” Derek manages, his voice going a bit rough around the edges as he tries to handle Stiles laying on top of him.

“Appreciate my genius.” Stiles whines. His hat falls off and swings behind him when he leans over.

Derek pretends to consider this. “I don't know...can I be your favorite Derek again?”

“Derek Number Five is my favorite _plant_ Derek.” Stiles rolls his eyes, because this should be obvious. “You’re my favorite _Derek_ Derek....Alpha Derek....Derek Supreme? Forget it, I’ll give you a better name later.”

“I love you too, Stiles.”


End file.
